


Pisces

by obeyingthemuse



Category: Original Work
Genre: Because Life, Light Novel, Self-Insert, Transported Into Another World, Unreliable updates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 18:53:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16289909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obeyingthemuse/pseuds/obeyingthemuse
Summary: Someone of our world is transported into a fantasy world upon death. A familiar story, if not for one detail:They’re now stuck in someone else’s mind.





	Pisces

**Author's Note:**

> I was in very low spirits, so I decided to key smash a positive story out in catharsis. At the same time, I’m a perfectionist, so I stressed over grammar and word flow all the same, so cathartic key smash was a fail. On the other hand this story came out fairly uplifting for me to read, so perhaps writing is less therapy for me and more a means to busy myself with themes other than negativity. 
> 
> If this can improve my spirits, I hope it can at least prove diverting to read. Thank you for giving this story a chance.

I must have nodded off while riding the bus. Instead of a gentle curve from wakefulness to sleep, my drooping eyes had slid closed before quickly fluttering wide open right in mid-descent into unconsciousness. My brain had shut off for those precious seconds, granting me reprieve from aching eyes and a heavy body, but the following ten seconds were spent lucidly reviewing my surroundings like any sleep-deprived human being. That was why I barely reacted to an endless grassy plain replacing the public bus I was riding. 

The pain came after. 

The sensation of my body crunching in half, glass shards entering my soft tissue, a stranger’s severed head nearly bowling over mine––! I gasped and held my chest, but my skin wasn’t broken and I could breathe (hyperventilate) just fine. A traffic accident? Did it matter? I was dead, a fact softly echoed by the susurration of the ankle-high grass around me, bending to an invisible wind and stretching as far as the eye could see like no place on Earth. I felt it before understanding –– that I was the only shred of life around here. The green grass, the cloudless blue sky, and the whispering wind were all reflections of something beyond me, like an array of mirrors reflecting light off one another until the light source couldn’t be seen. Death was freedom to the wonders of simple nature.

Death was lonely.

x

A patch of sprouts sprung up while I was performing cartwheels. Sometimes the eternal daytime brought a rush of spontaneity within me that manifested into childish activities like cloud watching and, now, cartwheeling. I stopped my playing around and approached the growing plants with curiosity. They weren’t sentient like me, but they spoke of a change in my unusual environment, so of course I wished to learn everything I could of them. The green life here disobeyed general rules of nature just like the sun that always stood at high noon, so the grass never grew any taller, and sprouts could pop up without the planting of seeds. 

I felt a leaf, just to assure myself that the sprouts were real. I already knew the answer.

The patch remained for hundreds of more cartwheels, moments of cloud watching, and attempted hand stands. (The fifteenth try was the charm.) The number of sprouts grew to a wider patch until I could safely call the mass of dark green an island, and then the sprouts in the middle of the patch grew before my eyes into young trees each just a little under my height. I saw no promises of flowers or fruit from them, but I was fond of their red bark and dark green leaves all the same, and came to pet their branches whenever I crossed the verdant island. 

As time passed, the island expanded and grew taller, and other plants sprouted within the island from vines to ferns, if I had to hazard a guess. Plenty flowered. Each one was beautiful; one type had soft purple bulbs that glowed silver in the shadows cast by tall trees, and another type had yellow petals the width of my thigh that always pointed their faces to the sun like super-sized sunflowers. I conversed with the plants about the mundane things from my time alive as a violinist, and I felt less lonely.

x

The red bark trees never seemed to stop growing. The tallest had risen to double my height when a shadow fell upon the field and bleached all colours into a greyscale, and I, alarmed, gazed up to realise that a moon was slipping over the sun. As the height of the eclipse drew nearer, unnatural air currents spun out from behind me, and I turned to face the edge of the island where shadows were gathering and taking form with every second ticking by as the moon slid closer to covering the sun’s brilliant face. The sunflowers drooped and the purple bulbs glowed dimly like distant stars. Even the placid atmosphere of the field drew away from the entity taking shape before me, until what remained was what I could only describe as not even the tame word of “shadows,” but…

Darkness. 

My heart hammered within my chest, but most of all, I frowned. This did not belong here. 

The ground shook with a bestial roar, but I determinedly gazed upon the darkness with a straight face, not wishing to expose my heart to weakness through uncertainty. The foreign presence gained substance with each clawing at dirt and thump at the ground like an oversized hammer, and the roars dropped octaves as if now rolling out from a deep, lightning-touched canyon. The darkness thrashed and shook away blackness for a light grey pelt and eyes that flashed like falling stars. Whiskers as long as my forearm glinted in the fading sunlight like tripwires. Darkness had taken the form of a monstrous lion.

“Stop struggling,” I said. 

The moon swallowed the sun. Even the tallest trees behind me started to tremble.

“Hey. Stop struggling!” I shouted for the first time since my death. My human cry was a feeble needle against the roars’ hammer, but I knew the beast could hear me. The grey plains and forest around me began to fade into ink, and worry sprouted in my chest. Don’t take this place from me! “HE–––Y!” I yelled, startling even myself. The lion snapped its jaw (and what felt like the air pressure, too) closed to turn equally intimidating growls at me. I spread my arms to put myself between the beast and the forest. “This is it. You’re here for good, and you know it! So stop throwing a tantrum like an ignorant child and accept what you have already!”

I knew this darkness was obstinate and amoral, but I pled for it to reason, and the moon hung dark in the sky. 

Neither the lion nor the moon gave an inch. I worried the plants would wither. 

The beast’s gums slowly disappeared behind whiskered lips, and five-inch claws ceased from scoring the earth. A long tail thrashed behind the lion, and the beast’s petrifying gaze remained on me with pinpoint precision, but regardless if minutes or hours passed, the lion’s rage finally simmered down to a slow-roasting, calculating level. The beast’s sharp eyes glinted like a snake’s. Or a dragon’s. A growl reverberated from its throat, into the earth, and up my legs, and I trembled, but remained rooted in my spot. Like the beast, I too did not give an inch. 

Finally, the claws retracted and the lion’s bristling hairs lowered. The moon slipped a fraction off the sun, and the field and I breathed. The lion’s muscles tensed under his pelt, split between sitting or approaching me, but perhaps we both sensed that I was in no mood to have my wits further tested, as the beast came my way for three deadly silent steps before lowering onto the ground like an oversized house cat (although its penetrating, chilling gaze shattered the image). I blinked several times to check if the field was dyeing a lighter grey or if its green colours were returning with the gradual recovery of the sun. The beast’s eyes never left me as if the forest island behind me and the grassy plain behind the beast were not there.

“What is your name?” the beast asked. His voice carried the quality of a blade kissing the back of my neck, and I shivered despite myself.

Name? I hadn’t thought of one since dying, but I amused a childish thrill in choosing one for myself despite the situation. No use in displaying fear before this beast if it was to stay, after all. “Pisces,” I stammered. It was my zodiac sign, but on second thought, I shouldn’t have named myself after twin fish when darkness decided to manifest as a large cat. “You?” I returned.

“Regulus,” the beast replied, and I burst out laughing before quickly slapping a hand over my mouth. The lion frowned. 

“You lie,” I said. 

“So do you,” he returned. 

As the curtain of grey slowly lifted, a bronze pelt slid over the unnaturally large lion, and twin golden flames took to Regulus’s eyes. Somehow they made his stare all the more piercing. I fisted my lilac-coloured dress, and my dark locks danced with the return of the field’s calm breeze. The moon had finally disappeared, and all was as usual sans the massive lion lying ten feet from me. He bore his canines with a gargantuan yawn. His maw reminded me of caves where explorers would mysteriously disappear. 

x

Regulus kept to the edge of the forest and watched me pet the flowers, climb the trees, and cartwheel about in the field. It was as if all his earth-shaking energy had been used up in his tantrum, but we both knew that that wasn’t true, and never spoke of it. We never spoke at all, actually, until I gazed at Regulus from the tallest tree where the tree’s height combined with its distance from the edge of the forest caused Regulus’s grand figure to shrink into the size of a marble. He reminded me of a lone star like one of the many scattered purple bulbs that glowed silver in the shade. 

I invited him to cartwheel with me, first. He gave me a look that reflected what even I felt of the suggestion, and a laugh escaped me. I invited him into the forest right after, and he eyed me warily, assessing if this human girl really was inviting darkness incarnate into a forest where the plants could wither at his presence if he so wished it. I introduced him to the ferns, then the super-sized sunflowers, and then the redwood trees, which had grown to triple my height by then. I showed him everything of the forest island, and described how the grassy plain around it never grew above ankle-length so that the ground was like carpet that softened the impact of an unsteady hand stand. I talked for as much and as long as I wanted because I hadn’t had a two-sided conversation since my death, although Regulus’s choice responses involved grunts, growls, and insults. 

He was still company.

When I took a break from talking, we lounged and walked about in silence, until he asked, “You don’t know where you are, do you?” and considered me with mild wonder.

That made me halt in my steps. I never considered the possibility that anyone would know something about this place beyond what I could gather. While I was no genius at puzzle-solving, I had fair intelligence and observational skills. “And you do?” I asked.

Regulus flicked his tail. I learned that it meant he was thinking, however briefly. He turned his intimidating, golden gaze to the tulips, but I had a suspicion that he was hiding his face from me. “I do.” For the first time, emotion slipped into his voice. It was flat, but sad. “This is my prison.”

The redwood trees were quadruple my height, now. How much time had passed since his arrival here? “This is all I have,” I replied. Regulus had found my response amusing, if not thickheaded, for he purred in bass. When he continued padding forward in our aimless walk, I hesitatingly fell into step alongside him.

Regulus spoke. “This is the mindscape of the infant boy I was sealed into.”

So many questions. Why were you sealed? (I could hazard a guess.) Why an infant? (That seemed cruel.) Why am _I_ here? 

“A boy?” I asked softly.

We walked. “For the longest time since my sealing,” Regulus said, “I thought you were him.”

I clicked my tongue, and a bass sound reverberated from his throat again. “I am so obviously not,” I gritted out, “a boy.”

“Oh?” The beast’s –– weak –– curiosity was genuine. “I couldn’t tell.”

“Now you’re really playing me,” I huffed. Regulus was acting sarcastic, teasing, or both, but he denied this.

“Spirits can’t see the difference between humans,” Regulus stated indifferently. “If you value gender so much, I suppose you align yourself with females?”

“And what is that wording supposed to mean?”

“You are not a spirit?” Regulus turned his piercing gaze on me, and my (irritation) confidence faltered. He faced forward again, nose dodging a hanging vine with an elegant dip of his head like a woman baring her neck in a dance or a man holding her and about to snap it. He was unapologetically unpredictable. “If you aren’t the boy, then you are a spirit within his mindscape, just as I am.”

Was it unusual or impossible for a human to be in another human’s mindscape? I wanted to say, “I’m not a spirit!” but as I had died, would that actually be the truth? I thought I was a soul? “I’m guessing spirits aren’t solely split between male and female,” I proposed, and Regulus sniffed.

“Humans care about gender. Some of us spirits just choose one and move on, but most of us don’t care enough to pick an identity. Gender means nothing in the spirit world.”

Well, _my_ world would have had a field day. Also, this lion seemed to believe that I was a spirit like him, which, fine, I could understand how he had arrived to that conclusion (somewhat), and I didn’t bother correcting him. What did it matter? Regulus, for all his power I had yet to see, seemed to wholeheartedly believe he could not break the seal imprisoning him, so my chances of leaving this place were even slimmer, and I had little idea of what to do in a world I most likely couldn’t physically interact with anyway. 

We treaded every inch of the forest and ran around in the field; sometimes, we played a version of tag where I tried to catch the cottonball-end of Regulus’s tail or he pounced on me and rolled up like a kitten with a ball of yarn, and the rules were definitely unfair but the thrill of running beat any disagreement. I laughed more often and Regulus grinned more freely. (Which was a terrifying sight, but no one could help their face, okay.) 

Regulus told me about the world outside that was divided between the mountains, the valleys, and the sea, and how humans fought each other to keep their third of the world. He described the delicious snow on the mountains that trickled into crystalline rivers through the valleys and eventually into the green, salty ocean, and he belittled the humans for their wars and pitiful existences. “One bound, and I can tear through fifty bloody humans at once,” he cackled, and I stared at him unimpressed. 

His favourite object of scorn was the human king of the mountains who, along with a table of knights, had fought and sealed Regulus into an infant boy; most of all, however, Regulus despised the human boy whose mental reserves had handled the difficult and supposedly fatal sealing. I had a feeling that my involvement during the eclipse had helped the boy along, but come on, he was an infant. When asked why Regulus had been attacked in the first place (besides the fact that he possessed a disagreeable personality), he indifferently shared that he had been destroying a town or two to kill time. Awful beast. This was why you had no friends!

Regulus was the laziest character I knew when one ignored his earth-shaking, fearsome arrival into the mindscape. He often dozed in the thickest part of the forest where the dim sunlight resembled dusk or early morning whenever we weren’t walking, running, or climbing trees. (I wasn’t ridiculously active. I just found no reason to nap!)

That was why Regulus wasn’t present when the boy entered the mindscape for the first time.

x

I was trying to walk while committing a hand stand when an upside-down boy appeared in my vision. I had not seen another human (not even my reflection) in so long that the short-haired person with an angular as opposed to curvy body didn’t register until I realised that my dress was hanging around my neck. I hastily fell correctly, somersaulted, and stood up with my face and neck feeling like they were on fire, while the boy had turned around with the tips of his ears glowing red. 

Regulus hardly cared about my dress and he honestly didn’t register to me as a male anyway, but commit a hand stand before anyone else remotely human-looking, and this was embarrassing. My dress came with matching lilac-coloured underwear, but still. 

“Sorry,” I stammered, feeling flushed. “No one visits, so I’ve never….”

“No, no. It’s fine!” the boy quickly assured, but he had yet to face me. I softly informed him that I was appropriately covered, and he slowly turned around with a hand over his eyes, but after a peek, he realised that yes, my dress was covering my body and not my face. 

Now that I could look at him properly, I realised he was very beautiful. He had a crown of silver-white hair that danced in the wind and shone like silk threads, and his bangs framed a symmetrical, narrow face and crystal blue eyes. His simple earth-toned clothing could not hide a modestly fit body. On a second look, I realised that he was carrying an empty scabbard. A knight in training? He only looked twelve.

The boy in turn was staring at me, and I realised that my simple dark hair, brown eyes, and tan skin all paled (not literally) in comparison to his ethereal beauty. Seriously, which of us was the “spirit” here!?

His gaze wandered to the forest as his embarrassment fell away for wariness. “There is something…sinister…deep in those woods.”

My own embarrassment vanished at the innocent statement. “Nonsense,” I waved his worry away. “The forest is proof of your growing maturity. I watched the first sprouts shoot up when you were just a child.”

His head whipped back at me, his striking blue gaze startling me yet again, and he opened his mouth. “You know who I am?”

“Who else?” I smiled. “We would not be in this place if not for you. What is your name?”

“R-Royle. Hiroto Delaney Royle.”

That…sounded familiar. “You must be a member of the royal family,” I said without thinking, and Hiroto’s brow quirked up in honest confusion. 

It suddenly hit me. Hiroto Royle wouldn’t learn of his royal heritage until at least after his abusive grandparents from his mother’s side would beat him within an inch of his life and throw him into a river. After being rescued by a low-status knight of the valley kingdom, Hiroto would befriend the knight, go on an adventure, gain many trustworthy comrades along the way, encounter the dangers of politics and spirits –– including the dark spirit sealed within him –– and eventually save the world from an ancient evil while discovering himself the rightful heir to the mountain kingdom. His direct blood relation with the first prince and simultaneously respected knight who had perished in the sealing of the strongest evil spirit in the mountains would be revealed somewhere along his journey, but the exact date was irrelevant (and hard to remember at the moment). 

Hiroto was the protagonist of a manga. 

And the dark spirit capable of laying waste to an entire kingdom was in his mental backyard.

“Hey, are you alright?” Hiroto approached me carefully and waved a hand in front of my face. The insanity of the situation pushed a laugh out my throat, and I took his hand. His eyes were so expressive that the worry in them made me feel like a bad person without knowing exactly why.

“Are you?” I instead redirected the question, and Hiroto faltered. I dropped his hand and watched his gaze slide away in deep thought. Something was plaguing him. “Your grandparents?” I asked, and his eyes quickly found mine.

“They just didn’t want pets,” he defended. “That’s why I had to leave the stray cat where it was. My grandparents can’t feed another mouth when they already have me.”

“You aren’t a burden.” I put my foot down. “Family should never be a burden.” My own family troubles had challenged that belief too often, but I still held on to it. Hiroto watched my face with hope rising in his, and my heart quivered. “You will become a great knight,” I said softly. And an even better king.

“You think so?” he asked like a child to a parent. I placed a hand on his shoulder, and when he didn’t flinch or stiffen, I slowly pulled him into a hug.

“I know so.”

x

I would later learn that Hiroto had given his share of food to an alley cat and had starved, and his resultant unconsciousness had led him to his mindscape. If I hadn’t been present, maybe he would have dismissed the forest and field as a dream, but what had been done had been done. Regulus was amused that a single encounter with a human had made me chatty –– I now had more to talk about –– but the beast was at the same time irritated that I had interacted with “the infant boy” at all. 

“One bound, and he and his entire town would be dead,” Regulus kept repeating, sheathing and unsheathing his claws. I sighed at his behaviour. If Regulus knew who Hiroto’s father had been, Regulus would throw a fit.

Time passed. I was jumping between tree branches when Hiroto materialised among the ferns, and I excitedly climbed down to greet him. It felt like too long since I had seen him last. He seemed to have grown an inch. When I called out to him, his bright eyes caught me and widened in fear. He tripped backwards and crawled away, and when I slowed down in my path towards him with the realisation that something was off, he scrambled up onto his feet and vanished into the forest despite my calls. Hiroto couldn't _get_ lost in his own mind, but he _could_ lose himself there. With the exception of Regulus, everything here was safe, so I didn't worry, but I still wished to pursue him. I knew why the figure of a person taller than him had stoked the fear already beset in his heart. 

When I ran forward for Hiroto, a heavy mass of muscle leapt out soundlessly from the bushes and knocked me down onto the carpet of fern with the force of a collapsing wall. I pounded my fists at Regulus's shoulders, but he barely blinked. Instead, his sharp-toothed jaw capable of snapping bones into pieces like toothpicks was bared at me, and his uncomfortably moist breath pillowed out between his teeth into my face. 

I struggled. "His grandmother beat him. He needs solace!"

"He will find it in the forest," Regulus snarled. 

"He might die!" I wailed. “He can drown to death at any moment. Wake him up!”

“And how would you know any of this?” Regulus demanded.

I beat at his shoulders. “I…I don’t know why!”

“I asked _how._ ” A low, guttural sound rose up from his barrel-sized chest. My pounding faltered.

“You can sit on me for as long as you want, and my fists are like flies to you.” My eyes lifted to where Regulus’s should be. “So the fact you even ask means you’ve considered letting me help the boy.”

I couldn’t see Regulus’s eyes from behind his bared fangs, but I knew that at least some of my words had struck a chord when Regulus didn’t respond right away. He suddenly snapped his jaws too close at me, his whiskers and lips grazing my cheek when I flinched along with the air pressure, and I felt his claws peek out. “I care not for the boy,” he promised darkly, before slowly lifting his weight off me. I wriggled free and finally bolted, partly to help Hiroto, partly to run my fears away. I was reminded that Regulus was not a tame lion, nor an animal at all. 

I called Hiroto’s name as I ran, and the quivering in my voice frightened me. My hands were shaking. Staring Regulus down had been easy when he had been an unwelcomed presence in the field, but now that I had played tag with him countless times, my sentiments had changed. “Hiroto!” I shouted, and, despite knowing every inch of the forest, I tripped and skinned my knee and elbow. My wounds would heal like they always did, but tears fell from my eyes in shock. I gave a strong sniff but my nose ran a little anyway, and I used the edge of my dress to blow my nose. A shadow fell over my skinned knee.

“I’m sorry,” came a gentle voice.

I wiped my nose and threw a glance up over my shoulder at Hiroto. I gave a wet laugh. “It’s no one’s fault.”

He crouched down but didn’t force me to turn and face him, and for that I was glad. My face looked ugly when it was crying, and my purpose for running around in the first place had been to console Hiroto and urge him to wake up. “Are you–––“ _okay,_ I wanted to ask, but then he’d return the question. Instead, I said, “You should wake up.”

“I want to live,” Hiroto assured. “I’ve just never had a concussion before. Will I be the same when I wake up? Victims of concussions shouldn’t sleep, so I’ve heard.”

He was scared. We both were. 

What he didn’t know was that he was also drowning in a river at this moment. Did time run the same in his mindscape?

“I hope you know how to breathe underwater,” I said, then turned around to fully face him. He bore a puzzled expression, and I held his face tenderly. “I can tell you what you want to hear, but in the end it’s all up to you,” I shared. His crystal blue eyes shone with understanding. My lips twitched into a smile. I whispered. 

“ _Wake up._ ”

x

“Seriously?” Lance beheld me with a disbelieving gaze. He looked ready to drop another one of his empty insults, but instead shook his head and watched his feet as we walked over raised tree roots. “I never took you for a romantic, Hiroto.”

“I’m not,” I immediately replied.

Lance snorted. “A girl in your dreams made your heart beat again when I was sure that you had died from drowning. What part of that is not romantic?”

“Almost dying?” I offered, and he swatted my head. 

Lance carried fine gear and wore a dark green-themed knight’s uniform vastly different from my worn brown uniform. He hadn’t said anything, but I was sure that he hailed from an aristocratic family, even if his down-to-earth attitude hidden under many thick layers of _attitude_ delineated him from the typical rich kid. I wasn’t innocent of keeping secrets, either. While I shared how _I_ believed I had survived the turbulent Southern River with Lance, I had not divulged exactly who had beaten me and where I had come from. Lance drew his own conclusions that I had been assaulted by thieves and disposed into a river infamously responsible for killing animals that dared cross it in the spring. Seasonal snow from the mountains melted as the days grew longer and made already dangerous river currents more powerful. 

More importantly, however, was that where Lance bore shades of green, my home kingdom’s colours were black, white, and the greys inbetween. We were born enemies. This fact was concealed only by my neutral brown clothing. 

The two of us had been navigating through the dense forest for two hours when Lance’s hand flew to his sword and I reflexively reached for mine and swiped air. I belatedly remembered that I had lost my training sword in the river. 

“Bandits,” Lance whispered, and while his pace never slowed, his ears pricked up for unusual sounds. Having been raised in the forest, he could probably filter out a human footstep from a dash of squirrels across the forest floor. I was more familiar with a vertical terrain, but no less uncomfortable. While my grandparents had been family, and my modest, local knighthood school accomodating, neither had been home.

“Lance,” I lowered my voice. “Why were you this deep in the forest…alone?”

The young aristocrat’s steps never faltered. I sighed.

And dodged a blade to my head. 

Six knights in training leapt out from the foliage with swords swinging, and I hastily side-stepped, somersaulted, and knocked their blades out of harm’s way with the swiftness of someone raised in the crags and with quick strikes at sword hilts. Ever tried catching a mountain goat? It could be thirty feet ahead of you while you were still closing your arms around yourself to catch it. Those animals could run up the faces of cliffs like they were flying over the rocks if motivated to, and I had learned the value of sure footing and speed from them. 

I had knocked out four knights in training and disarmed a fifth when Lance struck out from the shadows like a snake and scored a long red cut on my arm. I hadn’t even realised I had lost sight of him!

Knocking out the fifth knight in training, I used his sword to redirect Lance’s next lightning-fast attack into a tree and retreat several feet back. My arms shook; Lance’s swing had had the force of a falling boulder, and these quality swords were razor-sharp and not meant for training.

“I knew it,” Lance accused. “You’re a spy sent against my school!”

Or I was just more talented in combat than I felt! Ouch, my wrists hurt. 

Lance was still speaking. “Tell your masters that the Leroux Family is amused by the lengths that your masters will go to dishonour us. Lance Leroux will become the strongest knight of the kingdom regardless of any sabotage!”

“You’re wrong, Lance,” I breathed, and barely caught my sixth adversary’s sword while Lance flew over tree roots in my peripherals. 

“Who is to say I won’t?” Lance demanded hotly, and I locked my blade with my opponent’s to send the latter’s sword flying towards Lance and buy myself five seconds to put a tree between the two of us. His sword’s swing struck into a third of the tree. How strong was he!? He could chop the tree down if he swung even one more time!

“Who is to say a baron’s son can’t be just as good as a duke’s?” Lance cried out. “My family’s status is only a joke to you, but my talents are a real threat! Report _that_ to your masters –– if you survive, that is!”

I know exactly how you feel, Lance of the Leroux Family. I had hailed from a nameless family and still dared to enter a school for future knights. Kids with nicer materials and plenty connections seemed like real leaders of an army already, but you still wanted to become a knight, right? Then when they tried to sabotage your efforts or called you names, your desire only grew stronger?

I knocked out my seventh adversary, leaving only Lance and I standing. He swung at me, and I moved to redirect the blow, when Lance’s sword suddenly flickered to the centre in mid-swing and met my shoulder. My instincts were the only reason I had leapt back into a tree and not lost my arm.

Lance was smarter than I had credited him. He had lulled me into a pattern and ambushed me with a counterattack when I had expected a straightforward slash. In my short time with him, I had even trusted his direction as we were leaving the river when he could have easily had saved my life to demand a debt from me. 

The point of Lance’s sword fell to rest just above my throat. My shoulder was bleeding. I was cornered.

“You…are wrong,” I panted.

Lance’s gaze was clear. He was done defending himself. “I’m sorry you chose the wrong masters. Someone with as low a status as yours is just disposable to them.”

“And you aren’t capable of killing,” I returned. “You switch grips on your sword like it can’t remove your finger if you catch it wrong. This must be the first time you’ve carried a real sword. And you’re wrong about me.”

“Not a spy?” Lance laughed humourlessly. It seemed that my analysis of his noble background had been correct, but I knew it wouldn’t help my situation. I let my sword harmlessly slip from my fingers to the ground. 

“I’m not someone who looks down on effort.” 

I turned around the tree just as Lance’s sword reflexively struck the trunk at my sudden movement, and I dove for an unconscious knight-in-training’s unsheathed sword. The tree Lance had chopped a third of a ways through earlier now bent at Lance’s second strike and fell to the forest floor –– barely dodging Lance –– with a bang that sent my ears ringing and nearly blew the clothes off my back. I shook off dirt and leaves to approach a dazed Lance with my sword, and I pointed it at him. 

“Lance Leroux,” I announced, and his eyes blazed with determination despite defeat. I spun the sword in my hand so that the hilt slapped against the heel of my palm and the pommel was free. “You truly will become the greatest knight of the kingdom.”

I smiled.

Lance stared at me, floored. 

“You sly fox…. You know more about sword tricks than I do! You could have defeated me eight swings ago!” Lance yelled. He angrily stood up and grabbed the sword from me. “You! You fight good.”

He turned and stomped away, ignoring the knights in training slowly returning to consciousness around us. My smile widened, and I ran after him.

That was how I made my first friend.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment! Even a smiley makes my day!


End file.
